


A Dark Cloudy Night

by GanglyLimbs



Series: Suits, Dresses, And Guns [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: And Gavin/Dan, Angst, Mostly focuses on Gavin/Meg, Multi, this is basically just angst, with a bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10617426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GanglyLimbs/pseuds/GanglyLimbs
Summary: It's been two years since Gavin and Meg had set foot in Los Santos and still they can not find what they are after. Time is closing in on them and the game is starting to change.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! The next part of the series! So this one mostly deals with how Gavin and Meg are dealing with their decision as well as a few complications. I hope you enjoy!

A dirty blond head snapped to the side as a punch landed across the bound man’s cheek, adding to the bruises already there. They were so red, the cheek had been hit so many times, that his torturer could see them though the man’s bushy, unkempt beard. Rolling his head back around, the blond man gave the thug standing before him a grin, rolling his shoulders to loosen them. Well, loosen them as much as he could with his hands tied up tight to the chair he was sitting in. “Was that supposed to be a punch?” He spat out some blood at the the guy’s feet.  _ Byron _ . He thinks. The thug had told him his name was Bryon. “I barely felt it.”

He was hit again for the complaint. 

The two were in an abandoned farmhouse, reconstructed to be a torture room by the gang running the nearby town. The walls had been stripped, dark heavy curtains put over the windows, and every room was empty except for the living room that they sat in. It had one table, loaded up with all the tools Byron needed. It was dark, with only one working light. Silent too, except for the wind banging against the side of the house. The building stood in an empty field, the food produced there long dead and weeds had started overtaking the land. No one could hear them scream. And Byron encouraged his victims to scream. 

Byron let out a sigh, rubbing at his sore knuckles. “I’m getting tired of this game. I don’t want to waste much more of my time on you. If you talk, then this can all be over. If you don’t, then.” Bryon shrugged, giving the man before him a charming smile. “I’ll have to get violent.”

The young man lifted his head, lips bloody and eye swollen. But he ignored all of that as he gave his torturer a grin. “Are you willing to give up now before it’s too late?” He shot back. It was a question he had asked time and time again during his stay here.  

The muscular man snorted, before he threw his cigarette to the side. He was sweaty from the hours he had spent beating on his new victim. With no working A/C, it got hot and stuffy in here. His white wife-beater clung to his body, as did his jeans. “An empty threat from someone who’s crew thinks he’s dead.” 

Gavin Free continued to smile, not dropping his gaze from his tormentor. Seemingly not acknowledging the passive threat Byron made.

Byron narrowed his eyes as he fished a new cigarette from his pant’s pocket. “How  _ are _ you alive? Last I heard, you and that bitch of yours died in some freaky fire.” Putting the cigarette to his mouth, he quickly lit it, taking a long drag before blowing out.

“You think something like a fire is enough to kill the Golden Boy?” Gavin’s laugh was wheezy. Dry. Byron watched, unaffected, as specks of blood flew out of his mouth. “I’m a God, baby. I can’t be killed.” 

Byron leaned in, close enough that Gavin had to force himself from coughing as smoke was blown into his face. The grin that he shot at Gavin was twisted, a cruel smile. “You wanna bet?” 

Gavin’s lips twitched. “As much as I want to continue playing, I’m afraid your time is up.” 

The click of a gun stopped Byron from asking what Gavin meant. 

Gavin looked around the frozen man to greet the figure standing in the doorway. “B! Glad you could make it.” 

Dan didn’t look away from the man his gun was pointed at. “Took me a while to find you. Fucker here knows his stuff.” 

Gavin hummed his agreement. “That he does. Shame he doesn’t have the information we want.”

“My-My boss isn’t suicidal.” The man said, lips trembling. Gavin watched as his hands twitched towards the gun on his hip. “No way would we try to touch the Roosters or those physo Fakes.” 

Dan saw Gavin’s mouth tightened at those words and sighed. “Good.” Then he shot the man in the back of the head. 

As soon as the body hit the floor, Gavin’s entire body relaxed and Dan was rushing forward to untie him. “This was a stupid plan, B.” Dan admonished. 

“What are you talking about” Gavin tried to laugh off the pain. Dan noticed, however, the way he winced when he accidentally pressed against Gavin’s side. “This was a great plan. Worked didn’t it?”

Dan was  _ Frowning _ at him. “You can’t keep hurting yourself like this.” 

“It was the only way to ensure I could get the information I wanted.” Once his hands were free, Gavin rubbed at his wrists. 

Dan offered his hand to help him up, immediately sliding his arm down to wrap around Gavin’s waist to help support him. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Gavin didn’t answer. It was a long, silent walk to Dan’s car from the farmhouse.

~

Gavin took a long, hot shower, washing himself of dirt and blood. Trying to clear his mind. 

Once again, they hit a dead end. Byron had known nothing, not of Risinger or Coe or any other useful information. And Gavin believed him when the man said his boss wouldn’t fuck with the Fakes. Which meant they had another gang to cross off their list of suspects. Gavin should be happy, should be thrilled that harmful information wasn’t making the rounds through crews. Instead, Gavin just felt numb. 

_ Two years.  _ It’s been two years since that night of the fire, two years since Jon Risinger, two years since he set foot in Los Santos. And still the three of them were no closer to figuring out who Coe had sold the list of information to or even if he  _ had _ sold it yet. . 

Gavin’s head thunked against the shower wall, his long hair falling forward to form a curtain around his face as a sigh left him. It was getting harder to remember why they kept going like this, why he didn’t just jump on the first plane back to Los Santos and beg his crew for forgiveness. He knew he  _ couldn’t _ , shouldn’t, and it frustrated him so much. This was their only option, the only thing they could think to do at the time. 

Risinger had been dying, struck by a stray bullet, lying in a puddle of his own blood. The warehouse had been burning around them, large pieces falling down and the roar of the flames loud. Sometimes Gavin could still hear it. Still feel the lick of heat scorching his skin. It had been a split-second plan, a look that passed between Gavin and Meg about what had to be done.

If Coe knew that they were alive and that they knew about the list, he would have gone back into deep hiding and they would never have known how he got this information or who he was planning on giving it too. Faking their death was their only option to lure him into a false sense of security. 

Gavin just wanted to go home, to a penthouse apartment filled with laughter and arguments and kisses and… 

Gavin only got out of the shower when when the hot water ran out. Which, considering, where they were staying, wasn’t actually that long. Their hotel was a small one on the outside of a town in the middle of nowhere. A little old lady ran it and it wasn’t too much trouble to convince her to lower their rates. With the Golden Boy and DollFace being dead, Gavin and Meg couldn’t access their funds, and the three of them had to rely on the money they could manage to steal. 

Gavin walked out the small bathroom to stare at the room Dan and he were sharing. The one bed sat alone in the room, a plastic chair sitting in the corner. The white paint was fading in places and peeling in others. There was no T.V and the only other item in the room was a Bible sitting on the bedside dresser. 

It had been a long time since Gavin had felt this powerless. 

“You alright, B?”

Gavin looked up at Dan, blinking. Without realizing he had done it, Gavin had moved to sit down on the bed and stare down at his hands. Shaking himself, he gave Dan a tired smile. “Nothing, B.” 

Dan wasn’t having it. He sat down next to the worn out man, one arm reaching out to wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull Gavin close. “We’re going to find him, Gavin.” He whispered into Gavin’s wet hair. “We’ll find Coe, take him out. We’ll find whoever he sold any information to and kill them. We’ll keep your crew safe. Promise.” 

Gavin felt himself melting into the other man’s touch. “Will we? We’ve checked what seems to be all over the northeast. Every gang, every drug dealer, anyone who so as much  _ dipped _ their toe into crime. No one knows anything. Everyone still thinks Coe is dead. No one’s willing to talk about Risinger, too afraid of being linked with him and having the Fakes brought down on their heads.” 

Dan hummed. “I’ll give your crew this, they sure know how to pull off a revenge.” Gavin could hear the amusement in Dan’s voice.

Gavin smiled too at his words, mind wandering. That they certainly did. Geoff was know to get protective whenever someone in the crew got hurt. And when Geoff got protective, he could get  _ wrathful. _ Add in two heartbroken tornadoes of destruction and a grieving crew...well, things could get messy. And bloody hell, did this revenge get messy. 

Anything connecting to Jon Risinger’s name was destroyed. Brands, buildings, warehouses, the houses of his employees and family members. And in the media, where Geoff made sure everyone knew exactly why this particular destruction was going on. People who were on the shadier side of Risinger’s business started turning up dead, anything and everything that was remotely illegal that Risinger participated in was brought out into the light. Every crew in the United States knew that Ramsey had made this a personal thing, and had the full support of Burns and the rest of the Roosters. 

Gavin snorted. It’s no wonder that they had to quickly give up on their line of questions involving Risinger. To this day, gang members still peed their pants upon hearing his name, afraid that Mogar and the Phoenix were going to step out from around a corner to continue their tirade. 

Gavin grew somber at the thought of  _ them _ . Dan was pretty good about gathering any information about what was happening with their lovers in Los Santos, but he couldn’t get everything. What they had been able to see, though, was their own funeral as it was broadcasted live on television. 

It had been terrifying and glorious, many news reporters had exclaimed. No expense spared. Ramsey had paved the entire street they paraded down in golden flowers and lights. They draped over buildings and covered sidewalks, hung from store windows and street signs. Dark red ribbons were mixed in, Meg’s signature color. Everyone in Los Santos wore it on that day too, lips painted up and ribbons pinned to people’s shirts. Truly a sight to see. 

Gavin could still feel the despair he felt, huddled close with Meg and trying not to cry, when they watched their crew bury the “bodies”. 

Geoff, dressed as always, impeccable in his all black suit, had been prominently shown, standing tall and with a blank face. Gavin knew no one but him would be able to pick up the signs of the older man’s grief. A twitchy finger, a small frown forming at the corner of his mouth, the tiny stain of alcohol Gavin could see on his white shirt.

Jack and Ryan were no better. Standing as stoic as they were in their matching black suits, the two of them easily could have been mistaken as emotionless monsters used to death and the like. But Meg and him could see their grief, in the way Jack’s eyeliner was smudged and by the dark grey mask Ryan wore. His ‘death mask’ he had told them once, meant to wear for mourning when a dear friend dies. Gavin felt a bit honored by the sight, though no less shitty for the situation it was being worn in. 

On the complete opposite spectrum, stood Michael and Lindsay, also dressed in all black except for the small amount of red and gold pinned to their chests. They knew looking at their at partners’ mourning their “death” was going to be bad. But nothing could prepare them for the sight of Michael completely breaking down, falling to his knees as giant globs of tears fell from his eyes. They weren’t prepared to watch Lindsay have to pick him up, watch her rock the both of them back and forth, watch as she too cried uncontrollably. 

The rest of the funeral was a grand as the start, Geoff making a surprisingly emotional speech, followed by Lindsay, and Michael, and Jack, and Trevor, and Jeremy, and Matt, and Mica. The media proclaimed it the #1 highest rating viewing of all time. 

The city were less thrilled when, after the funeral, the crew hit the town. Hard. As the crew paraded down the road, Michael in Gavin’s shitty purple car and Lindsay in Meg’s decked out one, they decided to mourn as only Los Santo’s finest know how. By causing complete and utter devastation. 

Rockets and gunfire rained down on the city, flares lighting up the sky. When the three of them watched the new footage later, Gavin swore he had never seen anything more glorious. Or more heartbreaking. 

Thinking about it now, Gavin just felt empty. 

“Hey, hey? What’s wrong?” Dan nudged him, bringing Gavin back into reality. Gavin blinked, feeling a tear start to fall, before smiling and curling closer to Dan.

“M’alright, B. Just remembering.” Gavin sighed into Dan’s shoulder. 

Dan’s hold tightened for a second. “I know, B. And I know you’re desperate to go back home and to your crew. I’m here for you. In for the long run.” 

Gavin smiled. “Thanks.” He bit his lip. “You know I’m... sorry. Right? About ruining your military career. We’ve never really talked about how you just ran away from it.” 

“Eh.” Dan shrugged. “I always knew it would come to an end anyways. You haven’t done anything I haven’t thought about a hundred times.” 

“But you ran away from the  _ military,  _ Dan. You’re a criminal now, after all you’ve done to prevent yourself from going down that path.” 

“Gavin. I know.” Dan lifted Gavin’s chin so they were looking at each other in the eyes. “I know. Like I said. You haven’t done anything I haven’t thought about a hundred times.”

“...You’re the best, Dan.” Gavin held onto Dan, feeling himself settle as Dan’s warmth sank in. For just a moment, he felt peace.  

~

Dan had gone to get them dinner from the local diner, which made it the perfect time to call up Meg. She was in another state, working on another gang, trying to get more information. 

The two of them had decided to split up a few months into this mission in order to cover more ground. Gavin didn’t get to contact her often, not wanting to blow her cover. Dan acted as their go inbetween. He made sure they were both safe and let the other know how they were doing and if it was ok to call. 

The previous gang Meg had been checking out had made it too dangerous to check in on her. Gavin had been feeling antsy, impatiently waiting for the day Dan would turn up to tell him she was ok. 

He was still antsy, as he laid down on the bed, blanket covering him and phone pressed against his ear. He was antsy all the way up till he heard Meg pick up her phone with a “Hello?” 

His shoulders relaxed, that anxious knot in the pit of his stomach untying. “Hey.”

“Gavin.” Meg breathed Gavin knew she was relaxing too. It truly had been too long. “How are you?” 

Gavin thought about lying, but Dan would sell him out in a heartbeat. And, truthfully, Gavin was getting tired of lying. He was getting tired of a lot of things, lately.

“You know,” He tried to shrug, winced, and decided not to do that again. “I may have gotten beaten up. Again.”

“Gavin.” He could taste Meg’s disappointment. 

“I don’t want to hear it from Miss-I-Had-A-Gun-To-My-Head-as-I-Faked-Begged-For-My-Life.” 

“...Shit. Did Dan tell you that?” 

“Yeah.” Gavin paused. “Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine. These guys aren’t as tough as they think they are. Flutter your eyelashes and show a little boob and they eat out of the palm of your hand. I should be able to get out of this one unscratched.” 

The line went silent, except for their breathing. Gavin closed his eyes, taking in the fact that Meg was alive and talking to him. 

“Do you ever regret this?” Meg asked suddenly. 

Gavin didn’t even have to think about it what Meg was asking. “Every damn day. You?” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence.

“I want to go home.” 

Gavin honestly doesn't’ know who said it, the whispered words that clutched at Gavin’s heart. It had been two years and they had never talked about it. Like they haven’t talked about a lot of things. Just kept it locked up tight, not allowing themselves to dwell on those kinds of thoughts too long. It had always seemed counterproductive to think about it, to lament on their failings. Gavin tried, he tried so hard to push those thoughts away. But now that seal had been broken. 

“I want to go home.” Gavin could hear that he was whining, but he was so far beyond caring. “I miss Los Santos and the lights and the constant screams of sirens.” 

“I miss that little cafe we used to go to.” Meg continued. “The one that we never robbed because the coffee was so good and the kitten cookies were cute.” 

“I miss Mount Chiliad and our yearly tradition of setting the sky alight with fireworks.” 

“I miss Jack losing his shit after we mess up something because it was so fucking funny.” 

“I miss drinking with Geoff and watching shitty movies at the penthouse and having Geoff yell at us because we fucked up cooking.” 

“I miss arguing with Ryan and convincing Jeremy to do something stupid.” 

“I miss kissing Lindsay.” Meg’s voice cracked. “And snuggling with Michael.” 

“I miss doing heists with them and watching Lindsay chew out some dick head.” Gavin continued after a beat. He closed his eyes, imagining their faces as he remembered them. Does Michael still cut his hair or did he let it grow long? What color did Lindsay decide to dye her hair now? Were they still working out?

Did they think about him as much as he thought about them?

“I miss racing down the streets, trying to beat Michael.” Meg’s voice sounded strained. “I miss going on dates with them and yelling at them and fucking crying because one of them ended up in the hospital. I miss sex and worshipping Lindsay’s curves and making Michael beg.” 

“Meg... “ Gavin whispered, hugging his knees to his chest, ignoring the way his body protested. He doesn’t know if he could get himself together if she started crying. All he wanted was a hug. 

“I miss our family Gavin. I miss them so fucking much.” Meg was breathing hard now.

“I do too. I..I wish we could go back, see them again.” Gavin replied. 

There was silence again. That cold, dark part was gnawing at his heart. His chest was tight. Gavin’s only consolation was that he still had Meg, could still talk to her. That they had Dan looking out for them, so they wouldn’t fall down too far. At this point, he was sure that the two of them were the only things that was keeping him together. 

“Hey, you remember that time we all worked together to hide that cat from Michael?” Gavin asked suddenly. He couldn’t handle this anymore. He needed something light.

Meg replied after a moment’s pause.“Yeah,. We managed to hide her for, like, a month before he found out.” 

Gavin chuckled, pulling the covers tighter to him, trying to regain his warmth, and settled more into bed. “He was so mad.” 

“Not as mad as the time Lindsay found out we were fuckign with her by planting speakers around the apartment to make her think a ghost was talking to her.” Meg laughed. 

They talked like that for hours, sharing memories and good times. Trying to hold onto the past with both hands. 

~

Michael stalked into Geoff’s office, followed closely by Lindsay. The blonde silently closed the door, eyeing the group of people gathered warily.

Nothing good comes out of Burnie, Geoff, and Jack standing around Geoff’s desk, frowning. 

“You called, Boss?” Michael asked. Well. Growled. He’d been doing that more these days, snapping at anyone that wasn’t the main crew. Fighting more too. Lindsay supposed she couldn’t complain too much. She, too, was getting into more fights. 

She wiped the blood on her knuckles off onto her dress, not wanting to hear another lecture. 

Geoff hesitated, setting Lindsay on edge more. “We want to...talk to you about something.” 

Michael didn’t bother sitting down at the offered chairs. Already he was pacing, too agitated to sit still. His brown leather jacket flexed with every movement he made. “Ok, what? Can you get this over with? We have other plans to attend too.” 

Lindsay’s smirk was dark. ‘Other plans’ meaning they had some poor bastard tied up and waiting for them. With...with Gavin and Meg...gone, the crew had to undergo a little switching around. Trevor and Jeremy had taken over negotiations, with Matt and Andy handling the technical side. Ryan moved up to Geoff’s third as Michael stepped down to handle the more gory stuff. It was no surprise that Lindsay joined him, a new found viciousness in the wake of their loss. 

“Michael.” Jack’s voice was soft. “You might want to...sit down for this.” 

Michael frowned, looking at Lindsay. She shrugged back at him before taking the seat Jack had pulled out for her. Michael remained standing, but he did stop pacing, choosing to stand behind Lindsay, one hand on her shoulder. 

Jack looked at Geoff. Geoff looked at Burnie. Burnie looked back at them. Michael’s finger began tapping against Lindsay’s chair. 

Finally, Geoff moved forward to place a folder on his desk. His hand stayed on it, not allowing Lindsay to pull it towards her. “You know how we’ve been hunting down the mole that gave Risinger our information?” 

Lindsay felt her mouth curl into a snarl at the mention of  _ that _ name. She leaned forward, eyes locked on the yellow folder. “Did you find the fuckers who did it?”

“We know that Funhaus had one in their lower level and Kinda Funny had a few in their inner circle. Their crews are dealing with that as we speak. We don’t want whoever is on the other end of this to know that we caught them. But that’s not what we wanted to talk to you about.” 

“Then what?” Michael asked. Lindsay gripped his hand in hers as they watched the other three look at each other again. “Come on, Geoff. These mind games aren’t like you. What’s going on?” 

“Michael. Lindsay.” Geoff’s voice was serious, the man looking each of them in the eye. “You are to listen to everything we say before reacting, ok? This is..is going to be tough. I know I was in complete shock when I saw it. We need the level-headed Jones, not the rampaging ones.” 

Lindsay straightened in her chair, dread settling in the pit of her stomach. She looked up, briefly at Michael, who nodded down at her. “Ok. What is it?” 

Geoff took a deep breath.Then another. Then he flipped open the folder. 

The first thing they saw was a picture, or really, two pictures put side to side onto one, laying on top of a bunch of papers. They were black and white, a little grainy, and Lindsay could instantly tell that they had come off a street camera. But what the pictures were showing stopped her heart.  

It was Gavin and Meg. 

Gavin had long hair pulled into a ponytail, beard overtaking his face, and Meg’s hair had receded back into her natural black color. But it was them and Lindsay was struck dumb. 

Michael? Not so much. 

“What the fuck is this, Ramsey?” Michael’s voice was low, dangerous. Lindsay could feel her nails digging into the desk at the sound, but she didn’t take her eyes off the picture. 

It was Burnie who spoke up. “We’ve been keeping an eye on the crews to the East, putting out feelers for any information. We were hoping to hear about anyone willing to give up what they knew about Risinger and his connection to Coe, nab what is left of the bastards. Instead, what we heard were rumors of some...force...moving through them. We didn’t know what or who was doing it, so we decided to look into it.” 

Lindsay swallowed, her mouth incredibly dry. “And...and you found...found…”

“This better not be some joke.” Michael threatened, though Lindsay could hear his voice crack as the reality began to set in. 

“No joke. Gus was the one to pull these photos. Took him forever to find them, they’re still very good at their job.” Burnie tried to laugh, but it fell flat in the silence of the room. 

Lindsay, very carefully, picked up the picture. Her finger traced over their faces, eyes eagerly eating up everything. They were alive. 

_ They were alive. _

“Have you had any success tracking them down?” Lindsay asked. 

There was silence. She looked up to see the three of them looking at her warily. She raised one eyebrow. “Well?” 

“We wanted to check in on you two before we proceed any further.” Burnie replied. 

Lindsay stood up, taking time to straighten her dress. “Well what’s the wait? We  _ are _ going to track them down, are we not?” 

“Of course we are.” Geoff reassured her, frowning. “We just want to make sure you both are in on this.” 

“Good.” Lindsay nodded before staring down at the picture again. She looked up at Michael, who was also staring at the picture, mouth drawn in a hard line. She clutched tighter to the photo, crinkling it a bit, before looking back at Geoff. “I want everything you have so far. Where you got this picture, which crews have been hit so far. I want more pictures, anything you can get. I don’t care if it’s a blurry photo of them pissing in an alleyway somewhere. I want it. Make sure you email everything to me.” She grabbed the folder and turned sharply, head held high as she started to leave. Michael was close behind her.

“Where are you guys going?” Jack sounded panicked, following after them too. Lindsay could distantly hear Geoff and Burnie mumbling something to each other. 

“New York.” Lindsay replied, voice sounding much calmer than what she was feeling. Her emotions were starting to stir together. Confusion, anger, grief, happiness. But the one she held onto with a tight grip was the absolute  _ Need _ to see her partners again, face to face. “I’m going to personally hunt them down myself.” 

“Right there with you, babe.” Michael growled. 

Jack grabbed ahold of Lindsay’s hand, stopping her. Lindsay glared back at him. “Don’t think of stopping us-”

“Not stopping.” Jack reasoned. “Fuck no am I going to try to stop you guys from doing this. Not only is it suicidal, but I don’t want to. I want to find them too. But we need to go there with a plan.”

Lindsay scowled at him, but didn’t bother pulling her hand away. 

“Come on, Lindsay. Michael.” Jack looked at both of them. “You know Gavin and Meg better than anyone. Which means you also know that if the two of them don’t want to be found, by us especially, then they’re not going to allow themselves to be found. You go in, blasting up New York to find them? And they’ll run. We need to go in with a plan.” 

Lindsay closed her eyes. She could see them, but instead of the burnt up bodies she’s been imagining for the past two years, it was the last night she spent with them. Snuggled up together, Gavin curled up behind her, Meg in front with Lindsay’s arms wrapped around her waist, Michael spooning Gavin. Warm and loved and…

Lindsay opened her eyes. “Yeah, ok. Let’s go get our fuckers back.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments And Cristcsims Welcomed! Come talk to me at my tumblr-http://ganglylimbs.tumblr.com/


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